Live the Question
by Lizicia
Summary: 'Barney isn't sure why he keeps wanting to come back to her, risking his heart over and over again when he's the only one making an effort to turn it into something.' Barney/Robin, post-8x07.


**A/N:** First HIMYM fanfic. I'm in it mostly for Barney and Robin, so all this wonderful possibility of them being married and how they get there is really intriguing. But the last episode was so surprising and so sad that I just had to write something, even if my Barney voice is a bit unsteady. But this is me, trying.

**Disclaimer:** I would never claim to write the great comedy that is HIMYM.

Even the title isn't my own creation but rather this wonderful passage from Rainer Maria Rilke's_ Letters To A Young Poet_.

_Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day._

Here's to those two - and us - to try and live the question.

* * *

Barney isn't sure why he keeps doing it. This, them. Why he keeps wanting to come back to her, even if it means risking his heart over and over again. Even if Robin never repays the favor, never seems to take the chance. And no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it's not worth the risk, a foolish voice inside tells him to go for it.

In this moment, holding her in his embrace again is the most spectacular feeling he hasn't forgotten and he holds onto it for as long as he can.

He's quite certain the dizziness comes from the alcohol they've consumed. It enhances everything he's feeling and it all slows in motion. The momentum carries him forward, carries them both forward, and he forgets the doubts and questions and just lets himself feel.

Robin's soft and warm and so familiar. He's taken her by surprise but he knows the moment she lets go. Her hands wind up in his hair, her body presses closer to his, her lips open and she becomes pliant to his touch. Barney realizes it must last but a few seconds, a few glorious seconds when it seems so right, when he feels whole again, without having realized the brokenness in the first place.

And just as abruptly as it began, it ends. Robin pushes him off, pulls away, closes herself off. Barney doesn't realize the loss at once, so it takes awhile for him to recognize that she's talking. And it's really a jumble of words and broken sentences so his alcohol-fogged brain doesn't quite understand what's happening. Then she says_ it can't happen_ and this he hears with an absolute clarity._ They can't happen._

Before she can walk away from him, he reaches for her, grabbing her wrist, bewildered and angered and so full of these awful emotions that he doesn't want but which threaten to consume him.

"Why not?"

She turns towards him again and breathes in to give him an answer well-prepared but Barney won't let her answer, despite a question having been asked; he's sure there isn't any which could really justify her walking away.

"Why not? Is it because we've been drinking and this would be such a foolish decision to make?"

She shakes her head and cuts in.

"We tried this, Barney. It didn't work. You're just reaching out because you're lonely after Quinn."

Something pitiful echoes in her voice, whether she means to or not and he won't be dissuaded by her rationale, instead feeling the rise of emotion inside.

"No!" He shouts at the empty street, his voice echoing and the unusual forcefulness with which he says the word, startles Robin.

"Don't you dare say this is about Quinn when you knows perfectly well that it's the other way around."

And so, yeah, he probably is drunk and shouldn't be saying all this but damn it, he's kept this at bay for so long. And it irks him that she knows his reasons and still keeps closing her eyes to them.

"We're not the same people we were three years ago, Robin. We're not even the same people who cheated in a committed relationship last November. And maybe we're still not the best at figuring out what exactly a relationship is but I want to know if I could. And admit it, Scherbatsky, we haven't changed in all the important places. You haven't had as much fun as you had tonight with me, with anyone else. So you know this isn't some cosmic joke."

_It is the opposite, like when soul mates meet_ he wants to add, but stops himself before he can say something so corny and cliché. He isn't Ted, after all.

She stares at him with wide eyes and for once he reads her perfectly. He sees how afraid she is, sees the longing which surely matches his own and yet knows she won't believe his words. Won't really trust him which is ironic since he's the one who's been double-crossed in this thing between them more than once and yet, he's the only one making an effort. Putting it all out there, again, and why doesn't he learn from his mistakes already? She isn't ready to want him.

"But if you don't think so, whatever then. Forget about it."

And for once in their crazy relationship, he is the one that gets to walk away like it means something. Like he's won even if it always feels like losing, no matter the outcome.

* * *

The next morning his head is pounding and his mouth is dry and the night seems like a blur of events, all empty sparkles, like most of his life is.

But he can't forget the kiss, can't forget the words they said or – in Robin's case – didn't say and it's just fucking perfect. The one thing he would want to wipe away, he can't.

So he has a decision to make. He can feel awkward and confused like in a dream he can't wake up from. Or he can do what he said they should and just forget it happened.

That night at MacLaren's, he walks to their booth, plops down next to Ted and quips about a blonde Pilates instructor he met the same morning. It seems almost normal and he knows he can convince them of how normal it really is because this is what Barney Stinson does.

"So, Barney, how was your first time at a new strip club?"

He doesn't look at Ted who posed question but instead aims his gaze at Robin, sitting diagonally from him next to Lily.

"I guess it was good but you should really ask Robin."

Her gaze goes wide and terrified and for a moment he revels in it, not having realized he could be this cruel. It lasts only a short moment before he has to admit to never wanting to hurt her intentionally, even if she seems set on doing the exact opposite.

"I remember being tasered at the club and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in my own bed. But, judging from the cherry lip-gloss I could still taste, I didn't go home empty-handed."

She composes herself quickly, while he's talking, and flashes a smile though he catches the slight panic in her eyes when he mentions the lip-gloss.

"Uh, yeah, I put you in a cab after the club but from there on it's not really my area of responsibility."

She lies effortlessly, at least to others but Barney detects a hint of guilt. So they'll play it like this.

"Score one for drunken Barney. Even after being tasered, I can still get it on. Score five!"

He high-fives a somewhat reluctant Ted and smiles casually at the others. This game he can play, this hiding in plain sight. If she can, then so must he.

He catches her eye for a second and sees the doubt in her look. Doubt over whether he really doesn't remember or is pretending not to. But he refuses to give her the satisfaction of knowing what last night cost him – everything – and instead focuses on how it affected her – in no way. And so he smiles, the cracks in his heart covered with an impenetrable veneer once again.

* * *

**A/N:** And there it is.


End file.
